Let's Start With Chapter... Seven?!?

My daughters' school rolled out their new ELA curriculum, Ready-Gen, yesterday.  By today, my 3rd grader was complaining about it.  And I don't blame her!  She told me that the teacher read aloud a chapter from The Lemonade War by Jacqueline Davies, an excellent book.  So far, so good.  The students were required to follow along, pointing with their fingers.  OK, I can see the rationale here, but my daughter hated this.  She said it was hard not to race ahead of the teacher.  Don't we want to encourage readers like her?  I can remember this type of frustration from when I was a kid - but even worse, other kids were reading aloud, much slower than a teacher would.  I always read ahead and then couldn't find my place when I was called on to read! 

The questions following the read-aloud were boring too.  They had to write something they "learned" (it is unclear if this means something they learned about a character or plot point or something factual)  and write down what questions they had.  Not scintillating.  Not inspiring.  Not thought-provoking.

But what really got to me was that the teacher read Chapter 7 - and only Chapter 7 - to the kids.  Really?  Chapter 7?!?  Why not Chapter 1?  Why not the whole book in fact?  This curriculum seems like a step backwards to the days (my days) of what were called basal readers - boring collections of stories and excerpts, rather than actual books.  No one learns to love reading by reading from a basal reader.

What do you think about this type of reading curriculum?  What type does your school or your child's school use?

"I'm Starting to Hate Reading These Books!"

Yup, that's what my daughter said last night about the school books she brings home every night to read and record in her reading log.   Not words any parent, especially a bookworm, wants to hear!

I don't think she hates reading in general.  And I don't think she hates the books she's bringing home.  It's more the fact that reading them is an obligation and that she has limited choice in what to read which makes the whole thing a chore rather than a pleasure.  I did tell her she could choose something else to read and we'd record it in the reading log, but rules-following-first-child that she is, she refused.

On the upside, she actually enjoys reading many of these books once we sit down with them.  They always get a smiley face rather than a sad one on the reading log!  It's the idea of having to read them rather than actually reading them that she hates.

That means to me that so far this is not a problem.  But I hope it doesn't become one.  Any advice?

How'd I Do?: Librarian for A Day... Or Two Hours

My daughter's public school library is run and staffed entirely by volunteers.  I work a two-hour shift once a week.  The job consists mostly of checking books in and out, shelving, and handling clerical tasks (pasting new bar codes on books, for example).  But every now and then a student comes in who really loves books and actually asks my advice.  One of them came in last week and again today.  When I first met her last week, she was looking for a book on John Adams because, "he's my favorite president."  Today this fourth grader, clearly a strong reader with lots of interests told me, "I'm just looking for a really good book.  Any recommendations?"  Browsing our (fairly limited) shelves, I suggested Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery, The Doll's House by Rumer Godden, The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt, Half Magic by Edward Eager and When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead.  She ended up taking Anne of Green Gables and Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe (her own idea), both of which she was adamant about wanting to make sure were not "children's editions."  I assured her I would never give her a children's edition!  She spent so long making up her mind that her teacher sent another student from her class looking for her.  She made being a librarian for a few hours really fun!

With my oldest child only 6 and having only recently started reading middle-grade and YA fiction as an adult, I am still working on recommending books for this age group.  So, how'd I do?

Kindergarten, Here I Come... or Go!

Most books about a child's first experience with school (which used to be kindergarten, or even 1st grade, as in B is for Betsy, but is now most often preschool) focus on allaying the soon-to-be-student's fears.  Yes, mommy will go away, but she will come back, and while she's gone you will have so much fun you won't even miss her!  There are a number of fine books that take this approach, among them Llama Llama Misses Mama by Anna Dewdney and The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn, both of which focus on separation anxiety and Lucy Cousins' Maisy Goes to School and Maisy Goes to Preschool, which focus on the fun to be had.

But far more interesting to me are the ones that turn this paradigm on its head.  My two favorites involve kindergarten drop-outs.  In the chapter-book classic by Beverly Cleary, Ramona the Pest, Ramona had no fears to allay.  She was only too eager to follow in her big sister Beezus' footsteps and start kindergarten.  But one day, Ramona's beloved teacher Miss Binney tells her she cannot come to school unless she is ready to behave and refrain from pulling Susan's boingy-boingy curls.  Ramona, with refreshing honesty and self-awareness, tells Miss Binney she is unable to do this, and a kindergarten drop-out she becomes.  Ramona's stubbornness keeps her out of school for several days until, after receiving a letter from her teacher, she agrees to return. 

My kindergartener was delighted to discover that Ramona's class, like hers, is housed in a trailer behind the "main building."  Not only that, but Ramona's class had 29 children!  Apparently overcrowded schools and large class sizes are nothing new, although perhaps the parent and public consternation over it is.  Ramona's mother, Mrs. Quimby, certainly expresses no such concern.  Unlike Ramona in 1950s-60s Oregon, however, my daughter does not walk to school herself.

Ramona the Pest is the second (depending on how you count) in this eight-book series which was, remarkably, written over a span of 44 years.  In my opinion these books stand the test of time and I am enjoying them as much, if not more, as I did when I read them the first time.  My daughter seems to agree (although I was dismayed to learn recently that a friend of mine does not), as she and I are on our second cycle of reading the entire series at her request.  I was so pleased (and impressed) when she pointed out that

My daughter's Ramona

upon rereading "you can notice things you didn't notice the first time."  With some gentle questioning (i.e. interrogation), I discovered that she had learned this bit of wisdom from her beloved kindergarten teacher.  She recently named a doll/Purim grogger (noisemaker) that she made Ramona in honor of the series' well-meaning but impulsive, creative and mischievous heroine. 

Ramona and Beezus was the first (and so far the only!) movie my rather sensitive daughter has seen in a theatre.  Despite my aversion to movies based on books, I thought it was a well-done, age-appropriate adaptation and relatively enjoyable for parents, as kids' movies go.  The author herself was pleased with much of the movie, although she disapproved of some moments that were not faithful to the text.  Since the movie is an amalgam of events taken from the entire series, I'd advise reading all the books before seeing it, if you're, like me, a stickler for that sort of thing.

More subversive is Amy Schwartz's Bea and Mr. Jones. Five-year-old Bea and her dad, Mr. Jones, switch places.  Bea goes off to work at an ad agency and Mr. Jones goes to kindergarten.  But instead of this reversal making them appreciate their "proper" places in life, they both discover they love their new lives.  And there they stay, with Bea thinking up ad campaigns and jingles and Mr. Jones acing the colored lollipop game and making good use of his height and excellent motor skills.

Finally, First Day Jitters by Julie Danneberg is a more traditional entry in the school anxiety genre.  But even this one has a surprise ending.  The protagonist, whom we do not see fully until the end of the book, reluctantly drags herself out of bed, certain she will hate her new school.  The last page reveals that this unwilling school-goer is... the teacher!